


Much Ado About Foxes

by Ravenhoot



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events (TV), A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: 5 Times, 5+1 Things, ATWQ Referenced, Alcohol, All the Wrong Questions - Freeform, Canon Het Relationship, Could Be Canon, Dyslexia, F/M, Fluff, Pre-Canon, Swearing, Underage Drinking, V.F.D.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-24 22:26:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17712803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravenhoot/pseuds/Ravenhoot
Summary: Or 5 times Olaf called Kit "Little Fox" and 1 time he didn't (but he still sorta did).*Adult language throughout and one chapter references underage drinking.





	1. #1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SapphireShelle91](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphireShelle91/gifts).



> This was supposed to be a lot shorter than this, but I apparently don't possess the ability to write anything that's a single chapter for this ship. Sorry not sorry.
> 
> This doesn't necessarily fit into either one of my ASOUE series. It's sort of a stand-alone work for the ASOUE-verse.
> 
> I decided to gift this work to my dear faithful reader SapphireShelle91. Many of the chapters of this fic were inspired from conversations/comments and without those comments, I would have never been given the delightful plot bunnies that became this fic. So thank you, SapphireShelle91! It's because of you that I've written so much for this ship!

Summer holiday had begun about a week prior and the Snicket siblings were enjoying the afternoon at a park a few blocks from their house. Kit and Jacques, the twins, were playing a game of chess while their younger brother Lemony was scribbling notes into a notebook and paused every so often to glare at the sun for getting into his eyes. 

“Snicket!” 

All three siblings looked up at the sound of their surname. 

“Do  _ not _ tell me that you’re actually doing homework on summer break!” 

Lemony pulled a sour face and rolled his eyes at his friend. Jacques, upon realizing that the newcomer hadn’t been speaking to him, took advantage of his sister’s temporary distraction and switched some of the chess pieces while she wasn’t looking.

“Seriously, Lemony, if that’s the script we’re supposed to write over the summer, I’m going to be very disappointed in you! School  _ just _ let out!” 

Lemony closed the notebook with a sound of annoyance. “There’s nothing wrong with getting a head start on it. I’ll be done with mine and you’ll be spending the last week of summer scrambling to throw something together.”

“Not going to introduce your friend, little brother?” Kit heckled. 

Lemony made a disgruntled noise and pointed between his siblings and his friend. “Kit and Jacques, Olaf. Olaf, my twin siblings, Kit and Jacques. There. You’re introduced.” He flipped open his notebook and resumed writing. 

Kit gave an exasperated sigh and stood up. She shook her wild mane of curls to get the stray bits out of her face. She extended her hand and said, “So you’re Olaf, huh?”

Olaf raised his one long eyebrow in surprise and remarked, “I’m surprised you’ve heard of me. Your brother doesn’t strike me as the type to talk about… well, anything.”

“We’re his siblings. We force him to talk,” Jacques said with a chuckle. 

“So, you’re name is Kit?” Olaf asked. 

“Got a problem with it?” Kit countered, all spunk and tenacity. 

Olaf snorted. “Not at all. It’s cute.”

“Cute!?” Kit fumed. 

“Sure. Kits are baby foxes, right?” 

“Well, yeah, but… ‘baby’ sounds so... ugh,” Kit pouted. 

“Okay, okay. Hmm… Little Fox, then,” Olaf suggested.

Kit put a hand on her hip and contemplated. “Little Fox,” she mused out loud. “I kinda like it!”

“Oho! The cleverness of me!” Olaf announced grandly. 

Jacques sniggered quietly while Lemony rolled his eyes again. 

“J.M. Barrie,” Kit said with an appreciative nod. 

“One of the greatest playwrights to have lived,” Olaf stated. 

“So if I’m the fox, does that make you the hound?” Kit teased with a playful spark in her eye.

Olaf smirked, tilted his head back, and howled softly. 

“Kit!” Jacques called impatiently. “Flirt later, we were in the middle of a match!”

Kit flushed scarlet and rounded on her brother. “I wasn’t  _ flirting _ . It was just--”

“Tell yourself whatever you need to. Now come back and lose this match properly,” her brother insisted. 

Olaf chuckled and remarked, “I should be going anyway. I’m supposed to be meeting my parents for lunch. I only stopped to take the piss out of Lemony for being so studious on such a… lovely day.” Everyone seemed to notice how Olaf’s glance shifted slightly to Kit at the word “ _ lovely _ .” 

Kit had returned to the bench and was about to make her next move when Olaf leaned in and whispered, “Your brother moved your bishop and your knight when you weren’t looking. Make him pay for it.”

Kit grinned and nodded. “It’s a shame you’ve got to run off so soon,” she said.

“Don’t you worry, Little Fox. I’ll be seeing you around,” Olaf promised. 

And he did. All summer long, Olaf and the three Snicket siblings were nearly inseparable. And just as Lemony had predicted, Olaf spent the last week of the summer holiday scrambling to finish his script, only he didn’t mind - he had a feisty little fox to serve as his muse.


	2. #2

It was the annual VFD trainee retreat. When the adult members looked back on it, they honestly wondered how it hadn’t happened sooner but nevertheless, the year that Kit and Olaf’s training cohort were sent up to the VFD headquarters in the Mortmain Mountains ended up being the last year of the VFD trainee retreat.

In short, all junior volunteers within the same training cohort were given a weekend of rest, relaxation, and rejuvenation before their final assignment with their chaperones. The retreat was created for the trainees to reconnect with one other, since many, including siblings, had gone months with no contact whatsoever. The adults found that the trainees performed better in their final assignments when they’d had a chance to release some of the stress of their training.

Which was how the Snicket twins, Olaf, Lemony, Beatrice, Georgina, Monty, Gustav, Larry and a handful of others wound up at the exquisite VFD headquarters one blustery February weekend. Most of the trainees were in their late teenage years, so the retreats were almost always completely unchaperoned.

Once the group had arrived, it surprised no one when Lemony stepped up to be an unofficial moderator and delegator.

“Lem, lighten up,” Jacques said.

“Yeah, this weekend is supposed to be about fewer rules, not more,” Kit agreed.

The group managed to be more or less civil on Friday night. They were all tired from traveling and spent the majority of the evening sharing stories of the outrageous situations their chaperones had gotten them into. Unfortunately for Lemony, everyone wanted to hear about his adventures in Stain’d-By-The-Sea, since S. Theodora Markson was infamous for being the worst chaperone in the organization.

To everyone’s disappointment, Lemony was mum on so much that the bits he did share seemed frightfully dull. Even his own siblings didn’t know the full truth of everything that had happened.

“Tell us you _at least_ found out what the S. stood for?” Georgina begged.

“Sadly, she never said,” Lemony answered.

The group groaned collectively.

The following day, most everyone split off into small groups to enjoy their respective hobbies. Lemony and Beatrice went off to stare sickeningly into one another’s eyes (according to Jacques; more likely they were reading poetry), Monty and Gustav went to the library to research what snakes could survive on a frigid mountain such as Mount Fraught, Georgina swore she was _not_ going off to hypnotize anyone into taunting snow gnats, Larry was testing out new recipes in the industrial-sized kitchen, and Kit alternated her afternoon between playing chess with Jacques and reading lines with Olaf.

The afternoon shifted into evening and the group reconvened for dinner - prepared by Larry - and to review Gustav’s latest film.

Kit had been in bed for not even five minutes when there was a soft tapping on the door.

“Psst!” came the familiar hiss of her twin’s voice.

Kit glanced over to see Beatrice and Esmé sound asleep. She eased the door open slowly so the hinges wouldn’t creak and slipped out into the hallway. Her brother stood with Olaf and they both wore matching mischievous grins.

“What are you boys up to?”

“We’re not wasting the whole weekend telling ghost stories and going to bed at 10 pm like children,” Olaf announced.

“We’re going to the top-floor ballroom and playing tipsy charades. Care to join us?” Jacques finished.

“Who’s we?” Kit asked, already linking her arms between the two of them and falling in step between them.

“Well, not Lem, obviously,” Jacques said.

“He is a bit of a buzzkill,” Kit agreed reluctantly.

“So far, it’s the three of us, Monty, Georgina, and Gustav,” Olaf replied.

“So, is tipsy charades anything besides playing charades with liquor?” Kit wondered, feeling like she already knew the answer.

“Nope,” Olaf said with a wink.

They arrived at the ballroom to find the other three waiting for them.

“Yes! You got Kit!” Georgina exclaimed appreciatively. “So that’s six of us. Are we doing two teams of three? Or pairing off?”

“Jacques and Kit are not allowed to be on the same team,” Monty insisted. “That twin subconscious will give them an unfair advantage.”

“Agreed,” Gustav nodded. “I say two teams of three.”

“Fine then,” Jacques said. “Me, Gustav and Georgina against Kit, Monty, and Olaf?”

“How do we decide who goes first?” Kit wondered.

“Everyone chooses a bottle of liquor from the bar. Whoever has the darkest spirit, their team goes first. If two or more choose the same kind of liquor, the highest proof is the tie-breaker.”

They’d all chosen their bottles and were about to reveal them when the door creaked open.

“Tipsy charades?” Larry guessed.

“And you tried to sneak out and leave me behind, Kit… for shaaaaame!” Esmé taunted.

“Okay, okay, fine!” Kit said. “But no one wakes Lemony or the others, deal?”

Everyone nodded.

“Well, now we have to redo the teams,” grumbled Georgina.

“No you don’t,” Esmé said. “Larry and I will tend the bar and keep score.”

Jacques had ended up holding the darkest of the liquors with a bottle of 151 Rum.

And so the game began. Kit was grateful that the headquarters was so vast, because they got progressively louder as the game wore on yet she knew the bedrooms were so far away from the ballroom that the others were unlikely to be woken by the noise.

Larry and Esmé were excellent bartenders. No one’s drink ever got empty and they never accidentally or on purpose poured a different spirit in the wrong glass. Jacques and Olaf were drinking bourbon neat, Gustav had opted for rum and Cokes, Georgina was drinking whiskey sours, Monty had a mojito, and Kit was hooked on a drink Esmé had turned her onto called Brandy Sidecars.

In theory, only the losing members of each round were supposed to drink, but by the ninth or tenth round, everyone was just drinking freely. It was the last round and Kit’s turn. She drew the slip of paper from the crystal punchbowl they were using for the clues and read it silently. She couldn’t help but think _how appropriate_ as she practically skated across the marble floor in the thick woolen socks she had worn to bed. The other perk of playing the game so late at night was being in her comfortable pajamas and soft socks.

Kit devoted all of her attention to her team. She held up three fingers.

“Three words!” Olaf and Monty said in unison.

She unfolded her hands and Monty hollered, “Book!”

She held up three fingers again. “Third word,” Olaf said.

She then pointed to her feet and wiggled her toes. Olaf and Monty hollered out guesses rapid-fire.

“Foot!”

“Toe!”

“Heel!”

Kit shook her head aggressively and lifted her whole foot and waved it at them.

“Sock!” Monty shouted. Kit pointed at him and nodded.

She held up one finger. “First word,” Olaf said with a hiccup.

Kit simply pointed to herself. Monty looked perplexed but Olaf’s brow was furrowed deep in thought.

“FOX!” Olaf hollered. Kit was nodding like a maniac as Olaf answered the clue. “FOX IN SOCKS!”

“ _You got it!!”_ Kit screamed with excitement. Olaf whooped with victory as Kit ran back over to them. The thrill of their team’s victory made her jump into his arms and he hugged her tightly. The euphoria from their win made her hug him… but the influence of the mixed drinks made her hold on longer than necessary. Monty cleared his throat softly and Kit seemed to remember where she was. She pulled back and pulled Monty into a brief, three-person hug as her team celebrated their win.

Jacques was watching his sister carefully. He met Olaf’s eyes briefly and gave him a significant look. Meanwhile, Georgina was still staring open-mouthed at Kit and Gustav wondered aloud how she managed to pull off that win.

“I’d have never guessed that… Honestly, Olaf, how did you get that?”

“Because,” Olaf said fondly as he threw an arm around Kit’s shoulder, “she’s my little fox!”

They celebrated long into the night and come morning, the bar was littered with empty bottles, Georgina had thrown up in the punch bowl, and everyone had just slept where they’d last sat down and closed their eyes (only they swore it was just for a moment). Lemony would end up catching them all passed out the following morning and unintentionally ratting them out to Ishmael and Markson. And it would only be on the drive back into the city that Olaf would remember referring to Kit as “ _his_ little fox.”


	3. #3

“Three years, B,” Olaf bemoaned. “If I don’t get this right, I could ruin three years of friendship. Not to mention it would ruin my friendship with her brothers too.”

“Olaf, you worry too much,” Beatrice nagged. 

They were on an assignment and were supposed to be waiting for their chaperone. But frankly, their chaperone either couldn’t keep up or was intentionally lagging behind. Olaf suspected it was the latter. 

“You think we ought to wait for him?” Olaf wondered. 

“Nah, he’s probably just glad to finally be out of earshot. That way he doesn’t have to keep pretending not to hear us,” Beatrice kidded. 

“Whoever thought of putting the two theater kids together under one chaperone must have really had it out for Ishmael,” Olaf mused. 

“No kidding!” Beatrice agreed with a soft punch to his arm. 

Their assignment was surveillance, and they were already at a good vantage point to observe their target without being overheard. 

“Anyway,” Beatrice continued, “you just need to tell her.”

“But--”

“No buts. Yes, if you do and she doesn’t reciprocate, things will be weird. But if you don’t and someone else gets her… well, then how are you going to feel?”

Olaf ran a hand through his hair and huffed. “Things were so much easier when we were all just kids.”

“Well, we’re not kids anymore, O,” Beatrice said gently. “Poor Lemony is about to have a nervous breakdown trying to ask me to marry him.”

“What?!” Olaf snapped around to stare at her in shock. 

“Don’t play dumb. You knew he’s been planning to ask,” Beatrice said matter-of-factly. 

“Well, yeah, but  _ you _ weren’t supposed to know!”

Beatrice just shook her head with amusement. Men could be so silly sometimes. 

“Look, you just need to make her laugh. You’re good at that.” Beatrice pulled out a comic strip that looked like it had been torn from a newspaper. “Her birthday is in a few days. Do this. I know you’re a Viscount, not an actual Count yet, but it could still be funny.”

Olaf read the comic strip and chuckled. “You’re sure about this?”

“Positive,” Beatrice answered confidently. She wouldn’t tell him that she knew it would all work out because Kit had already expressed her own interest in Olaf to Beatrice weeks ago. She was better at keeping secrets than her beloved.

“Bea… thank you,” Olaf said sincerely. He gave his friend a brief one-armed hug before hunkering down and focusing on their actual mission. 

*****

About a week later at Kit’s birthday party, Beatrice came through for him again. She captured the attention of the entire room by telling an exaggerated version of one of the times when she and Olaf had driven Ishmael nearly crazy. Kit had already heard the story, so Olaf had asked her out onto the balcony to give her his gift. She followed him outside and he thrust a crudely wrapped package into her hands. 

She tore the paper and made a quiet sound of appreciation when she saw the book cover. “Peter Pan” by J.M. Barrie. Inside the front cover, he’d handwritten the message:

“Oh, the cleverness of me.    
Happy birthday, Little Fox.”

“Oh, Olaf, that was so thoughtful!” Kit exclaimed. 

“Well, it’s the thought that counts,” he said confidently. “And the viscount that thoughts.” He was halfway through the wink he’d choreographed to go with the line when he paused. 

“Wait. Thinks. The viscount that… shit,” Olaf stammered. He felt the heat creep up his neck and wanted to dissolve into a puddle. 

But she still laughed. She laughed because it was so much more like him to plan it out, mess it up, and still be completely endearing than it was for him to pull off a cheesy line flawlessly. She laughed even harder at his attempt to cover up his embarrassment. 

She stood on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Olaf took Beatrice’s advise and took the leap. He turned his neck so that his mouth met hers, and their first kiss was… nothing like he’d imagined. Startled, she jerked away and stared at him with wide eyes. But then she shook her wild curly hair that he loved so much out of her eyes and leaned in to kiss him again. And their second kiss  _ was _ everything he’d imagined it would be.

Beatrice grinned with silent approval, watching from the corner of her eye.

When Kit pulled away for the second time, Olaf said, slightly breathlessly, “Happy birthday, Little Fox.”


	4. #4

Exactly one year later, on Kit’s nineteenth birthday, Olaf was realizing the flaw in his plan. He’d gotten her a truly remarkable gift (or so he hoped). But the downside to that was that he’d have to constantly outdo himself every year. In retrospect, he might have gone a little over the top with this one, but he couldn’t help it. He was crazy about her. She was smart and funny and would call him out when he was doing something foolish or reckless (which was often). And she was the most beautiful person he’d ever laid his eyes on. She’d tamed the wild, unruly curls from her early teenage years but it hardly mattered to him. 

The previous year, her family had thrown her a grand celebration but this year, she’d asked to just stay in and have a quiet night together. Olaf checked his watch again.  _ She should be here soon _ . He’d offered to have his family’s chauffeur pick her up but she’d insisted on taking a cab. Her family had an affinity for taxis.

The Count and Countess had already left for the evening. They had reservations at a new restaurant that had opened and tickets for a new theatre production. They’d been positively shocked when Olaf had declined their invitation to come along. 

“It’s Kit’s birthday,” he’d reminded them. 

“So, bring her along!” His father had boomed. 

“Yes, she’s more than welcome. We adore her,” his mother had agreed with an enthusiastic nod. 

“We just want to stay in, order a pizza, and do things that  _ normal _ people our age do,” Olaf protested. 

“You’re normal, dear,” the Countess said. 

“Normal people don’t have butlers and  _ maître d _ ' s, mother.”

“It’s normal for people of our station, son,” the Count insisted. “Just like that school you begged us not to enroll you in is normal for children of nobility.”

“I didn’t have any friends there, but sure, okay,” Olaf grumbled. 

“Walter, let him be,” the Countess fussed. “You’ve had this argument a dozen times and you’ll likely have it a dozen times more, but not on Kit’s birthday.”

Olaf cast an appreciative glance at his mother. The Count sighed and spread his hands out, palms facing upward, in a sign of defeat. “Whatever makes you happy, m’boy,” he said. “Come on, Eleanor, we’ll be late for our dinner reservation if we don’t leave now.”

So Olaf sat on the bottom step of the foyer staircase and waited. Kit arrived a few moments later and announced she was starving. They ordered two pizzas (more than they’d be able to eat but Kit insisted there were few things better for breakfast than cold pizza. Olaf couldn’t wait to see his father’s reaction to  _ that _ !) and caught one another up on the goings-on of their week. 

Olaf was positively restless. He’d planned to give Kit her gift toward the end of the evening, but he was too eager. He had that kind of excitement one only gets from knowing a recipient is going to absolutely love the surprise that is in store for them. 

“C’mon,” Olaf said as he took her hand. “I want to give you your present.”

“Olaf, I told you I didn’t need a present,” Kit huffed. 

“Nonsense,” he replied dismissively. He led her upstairs and, to her surprise, to the foot of the spiral staircase that led to the tower. 

Kit had only been in the tower once - the first summer they’d met. She’d been helping him finish a script for a drama club assignment that was due when school started back up. He’d been so engrossed in the script that he’d simply called her up to join him instead of coming down to join her in the parlor. 

“Your tower? That’s where my gift is?” Kit asked suspiciously. 

“Sort of, you’ll see,” he replied cryptically. 

“I thought no one besides you was allowed up here,” Kit teased. 

“You’re the exception.”

Kit grinned as she followed him up the stairs. The tower was… remarkable. Its walls were covered with theatre posters, playbills, and one large blueprint of a stage. There were notes everywhere - bits and pieces of scripts and screenplays he’d started but hadn’t finished. A bar had been anchored to the wall at a haphazard angle and on it hung a dozen or so costumes. If there was one place Olaf truly felt like he belonged, it was the theatre. 

One thing that appeared out of place was a telescope set up by the solitary window. Kit assumed that astronomy was a factor of a play he was writing. 

Olaf gestured to the telescope. 

“You got me a telescope?” Kit asked with a bit of confusion. 

“No, you dork. Look into it.”

Kit did as she was told and saw… a lot of stars. She was never good with astrology.

“So, what exactly am I looking at here?”

Olaf leaned over so she could hear him without taking her eye away from the telescope. 

“Well, that would be the Vulpecula constellation.” 

“‘Vulpecula’ is Latin for--”

“Little Fox. I had to show you the constellation first,” Olaf explained. “This is actually your gift.”

Kit stood up from the telescope and turned around to see him holding a document rolled and tied with a navy blue ribbon. She slipped the ribbon off and unrolled the thick paper to reveal a certificate. In intricate, detailed lettering, the certificate read: **_International Star Registry._**

Kit read over it and looked up at Olaf for confirmation. 

“Is this really--”

“Yep,” Olaf answered while bouncing slightly on the heels of his feet. “All the stars in the constellation were already named, so I couldn’t actually name one for you. But you are now the proud owner of Alpha Vulpeculae - the brightest star in the constellation.”

Kit stared at him, eyes widened in shock. “You bought me…  _ a star _ ?”

"Happy birthday?"

Olaf bore a terse smile and held his breath. He was worried he’d misjudged what her reaction would be when she dropped the certificate onto the table next to her and threw her arms around his neck. He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off the floor a few inches. 

“That is the sweetest, most genuine thing anyone has ever done for me,” Kit said, heavy with emotion. 

“Well, I wanted to do something for you that you’d never forget.”

“Why?”

Olaf tilted her chin up so he could see her face. 

“Because I love you, little fox.”


	5. #5

Olaf was halfway reclined on a long sofa while Kit leaned against him, a copy of  _ Pride and Prejudice _ open in her lap. Olaf didn’t care much for reading but for some reason, he loved to watch Kit read. She was such an active reader - she would get excited during her favorite parts, lament audibly when something unfortunate happened, or let out tiny sighs of contentment if something satisfying was happening. Olaf wished he could read like she could. To him, they were just… words. A lot of them. He couldn’t make them tell a compelling story. 

Kit shivered and Olaf realized he’d been twisting one of Kit’s curls between his thumb and forefinger. 

“Sorry,” he said absentmindedly. 

“What’s wrong?” Kit asked, but Olaf could tell by her tone she was still engrossed in her book. 

“Nothing.”

They were silent for a few minutes when Olaf cleared his throat. “The downtown theatre is showing  _ Macbeth _ tomorrow night. Should I get tickets?”

“Isn’t tomorrow the sixteenth?” asked Kit. “My brother and Beatrice got tickets for the new opera at the theatre uptown, remember?”

“Oh… right, I forgot. Another opera?” Olaf bemoaned. He tried not to sound like he was whining, but he didn’t understand how they could sit through almost three hours of the same thing over and over. 

“Why don’t you like the opera?” Kit inquired. 

“It’s just… dull.”

“Not if you pay attention,” Kit teased. 

“I do,” Olaf countered uncomfortably. 

“Oh, sure, about as well as you paid attention during any of the literature classes in school, right?” Kit playfully poked him in the ribs. “Okay, quiz time. What’s this book about?” She held up the battered and worn copy of  _ Pride and Prejudice _ and smirked. 

“Umm, pride and… prejudices?” Olaf guessed with what he hoped was a charming smile.

“You never read it, did you?”

“I don’t need to read it - you’ve read it at least a dozen times. You can just tell me,” he grumbled. 

“That’s not how this works,” Kit tittered. “Don’t you want to read it for yourself?”

“Not particularly, no,” Olaf replied curtly. “I’m not big on reading, Kit. You know that.”

“But you’re a volunteer,” she said with confusion. “All volunteers like to read.”

“That’s not a prerequisite.”

“But my brother says that being well-read--”

“Don’t give me that bullshit line that Lemony is always spouting off,” he snapped.

Kit felt his demeanor change. Where he had been relaxed and comfortable a moment before, he was now rigid and tense. She leaned up and tucked her feet beneath her so she could face him properly. 

“Why does this bother you so much?”

“Because I’m tired of the volunteers being so pretentious!”

“Excuse me?!”

“They’re all so obsessed with measuring someone’s worth by how much they’ve memorized from books and can regurgitate back out!” Olaf badgered. “So what if I haven’t read  _ Anna Kristina _ or whatever the hell her name was! It doesn’t automatically make me evil.”

“I never said it did--”

“No, but your fucking brother practically did!”

“Olaf, where is this coming from?” 

“From everyone being so goddamn judgemental. Lemony acts like he’s so much better than everyone else, defining words left and right. If he’d get off his high fucking horse every once in a while, he might realize that just being able to read the fucking words is an accomplishment for some people.”

Olaf took a deep shuddering breath and looked down at his lap. He realized he’d balled his hands into fists. He didn’t like fighting with her. She was the one person in the world who was always on his side. He unfurled his fists and rested his hands on his thighs.

Kit, meanwhile, was looking at him like she’d never seen him before. He worried he’d damaged something between them that couldn’t be fixed. He  _ did _ just put down her brother to her face. Kit looked contemplative and after a moment, her scowl softened and she reached out, placing a tentative hand on his shoulder. She took it as a good sign that he didn’t jerk away from her touch. 

“O… are you dyslexic?” She asked gently. 

He didn’t answer her, but his silence was all but a confirmation to her question.

“But… you  _ do _ read!” Kit persisted. “You’re always writing scripts and screenplays. You love to read plays and poetry…”

“Those are extremely different from those endless novels you all read for ‘fun.’”

“I just wish you would have told me,” Kit said in a small voice. 

“Why? So all the volunteers would know I’m a moron?”

“You are  _ NOT  _ a moron!”

“They’d all get a good kick out of that, wouldn’t they? How ironic would it be that my father sent me off for this fancy expensive education and I didn’t learn a fucking thing.”

“I can’t believe you think I’d just gossip about you!” Kit raged back. “If you weren’t so goddamn proud, I would offer to help you!”

“I don’t want help,” he groaned. He didn’t know how to make her understand. He heaved a sigh that was heavy with exhaustion. “Kit, can we please just drop it.”

“O, this isn’t something you can just ignore and it go away,” she pressed. 

“I really just don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

“Sweetheart, I just want to help.”

“For fox sake, Kit, I said drop it!” Olaf roared. As soon as he spoke, he narrowed his eyes and furrowed his brow. 

Kit jerked her head around and gave him a sharp, measured gaze. “Wait, what did you just say?”

“I said… ‘for fuck’s sake,’” Olaf corrected himself. 

“No… no you didn’t,” Kit argued. “You definitely said ‘fox.’” She suppressed a giggle. This was a serious discussion after all. 

Olaf sat up, looked straight ahead and said in an emotionless voice, “I most certainly did not.” He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and stifled a laugh.

Kit recognized the tension melting away and the slow smirk that spread across his face. She poked him in the ribs again and with each poke she said, “You. Most. Certainly. Did. So.”

Olaf knew she meant well and would never intentionally do anything to embarrass or belittle him. So he relaxed back down onto the sofa, putting his arms around her waist and drawing her close. He rested his chin on the top of her head. 

“O, I really had no idea,” Kit said sincerely. “I’m sorry if you felt like I outed you.”

“I’m sorry I directed my irritation with Lemony at you. You didn’t deserve to be attacked like that. You were only trying to help.”

“I  _ will _ help you… if you want me to,” she offered. He didn’t say anything, but with his chin still pressed against the top of her head, she felt his nod. She wiggled a bit to extricate herself from the sofa. 

“Where are you going?”

“To call my brother and tell him he’ll have to find someone else to take to the opera because we’ll be seeing  _ Macbeth  _ at the theatre downtown.”

Olaf gave her a genuine look of appreciation and said, “You don’t have to do that.”

“It’s important to you,” Kit insisted. “There will always be another opera.”

“Little fox… you are remarkable. I could truly go my entire life and never deserve you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've seen quite a few headcanons of Olaf having dyslexia and that's why he seems to know a good deal of poetry and can write and read play scripts but struggles to read long dense works of prose. It also would explain his struggle with misspelling words and his general disdain for the attitude of VFD in regards to "noble people are well-read and wicked people aren't." 
> 
> I'll try to find some of the more detailed posts to link back here later on.


	6. #6

Olaf was a bundle of nerves. He’d rehearsed it so many times, he was worried he would forget what he wanted to say. Or worse, he’d blend bits and pieces from each time he’d rehearsed it into one bumbled confusing mess. But it had to be perfect. It had to. He had everything planned.

The first thing to go wrong was the Crivelli’s driver getting a flat tire on the way to pick her up. The driver apologized profusely but Olaf didn’t see a reason to be upset with him - the city roads were atrocious and were well overdue to be repaved. Olaf glanced at his watch and knew it would be cutting it close to wait for the tire to be replaced, so he opted to take a taxi to her house instead. 

She was radiant. She’d styled her normally wild curly hair into a sleek and elegant finger wave. She was dressed for a formal night out and she couldn’t have looked better if he’d dreamed her up (which he sometimes felt like he had). 

Olaf had asked the cab driver to wait, but the driver had either not heard him or misunderstood him, because once he’d closed the car door and walked up to Kit’s stoop, the car had driven off. So they were forced to walk the two blocks to the nearest trolley station. Olaf apologized repeatedly to Kit but she didn’t seem bothered. 

When they arrived at the restaurant (20 minutes late), the maitre d’ frowned. 

“Viscount, I do apologize, but we had a new host start this evening and he did understand to hold your table. I’m afraid he gave your reservation away. I will have those guests leave if you need me to?”

“No, no,” Kit interjected. “Don’t make someone else interrupt their dinner.”

Olaf shared a significant glance with the maitre d’ before squeezing his eyes shut with frustration. 

“But madam, you’re dressed for a fine evening, surely you and the Viscount don’t want your plans interrupted?”

Olaf gave a tiny curt nod that Kit didn’t notice. 

“O, we can’t make someone else get up in the middle of their dinner.” 

Olaf sighed. Kit was so considerate. Normally, it was an endearing trait, but for that one evening, he wished she’d have been more selfish. 

“You’re right. We’ll just go to the theater and be early, I suppose.”

Olaf and Kit left the restaurant and meandered down the sidewalk in the direction of the theater.

Kit stopped at a food cart on the corner and bought a pretzel. She offered half to Olaf and he accepted it with a soft grin. He knew she was trying to cheer him up and he appreciated it. He’d promised her a night out where he would treat her like a queen and so far, nothing had gone right. 

They walked all the way to the theatre since they’d had extra time to spare and Olaf’s face fell when they reached the revolving doors. There was a note taped to the glass door. In large, jarring bold letters, the note read:  **TONIGHT’S PERFORMANCE HAS BEEN REGRETTABLY CANCELLED DUE TO A RUPTURED PIPELINE BENEATH THE STAGE.**

Olaf kicked the door in frustration. “Well, that’s just perfect.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Kit said as she slipped an arm around his waist. “We’d seen that show once already anyway?”

“So much for this spectacular date night I promised you,” he said dejectedly. 

“Olaf, love, there will be plenty of future date nights that I’m sure will cancel out the bad luck of this one.”

“But this one was supposed to be perfect,” Olaf grumbled. 

“Why?”

“It… just was,” he said.

“Well… the car broke down, our cab left us, the restaurant gave our table away, and the theatre is closed,” Kit summarized. “At least nothing else can go wrong?”

A clap of thunder startled them both so much they jumped. The downpour came a moment later. They darted underneath the theatre marquee and Olaf made an incredulous sound. 

“You had to say that, didn’t you?”

“Oops?” Kit offered apologetically. 

Olaf just shook his head with disbelief at his own rotten luck and pulled Kit in close to his chest. She returned his embrace and they stood together, waiting out the storm. It was one of those brief but fierce summer thunderstorms that passed quickly by. 

Once it had stopped raining, Olaf sighed and said, “I guess we should just go home.”

“I’ve got maybe half a bottle of bourbon at home? We can crack that open and make fun of the theatre critics’ reviews in the newspaper?” 

Olaf smiled at her. “You know the way to my heart, don’t you?”

Kit stepped out from beneath the marquee and gave an exaggerated curtsy… just as a car sped by and splashed muddy water from the street all over her.

Olaf buried his face in his hands with a groan; he had all but decided to give up and ask her on another night - one where everything hadn’t gone completely wrong. But as he fiddled with the ring in his pocket, he glanced up to see her, soaked from head to toe, doing the one thing he hadn’t expected - laughing. Their perfect date night had gone completely to shit, but she was still smiling. 

“Aren’t you mad?” He asked.

“About what? The car?” She shrugged. “It’ll come out in the wash,” she added, gesturing to her dress.

“Not just the car… everything,” Olaf said defeatedly. 

“That’s just life - especially our lives. They’re so topsy-turvy unpredictable that you just have to roll with it and move on,” Kit said.

“But don’t you ever get frustrated with it all?” Olaf wondered. 

“Sometimes,” Kit admitted as she took her scarf off and wrung the excess water out of it. “But when you have people who make it all worthwhile… well, those imperfect moments become memories that you somehow never forget.”

Olaf’s fingers brushed over the ring again and he made a decision. 

Her hair was stuck together in wet tendrils and her exquisite jacket that his parents had given her the previous Christmas was stained with mud. His stomach growled with hunger after the lackluster dinner they’d had instead of the fine meal he’d planned. 

“Little fox, you are… the most remarkable woman I’ve ever met,” he said. 

The corner of Kit’s mouth turned up into a tiny smirk. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

Without letting himself overthink any further, Olaf sunk to one knee and winced as that knee made a wet squelshing sound on the wet ground.

“I want the rest of my perfectly imperfect memories to have you in them. Kit Snicket, will you marry me?”

She said yes, and the night became one of those imperfect memories that they would never forget. 


End file.
